My Immortal
by WondrousNight
Summary: “So young,” the creature spoke as if to itself. It sniffed. “So . . . sweet.” It rubbed its neck again and Hermione saw its fingernails filed to a point. “You shouldn’t be out in the forest, small one,” it said.
1. My Immortal: Prologue

My Immortal  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own anything, except for the plot, so e-mail me before you steal it. I don't own the Potterverse; I just play in it.  
  
Prologue  
  
"Oh, come on, Ron. If something could harm us here Professor Snape would never have sent us out," said Hermione, pulling her cloak closer to her in the cold night.  
  
"You're always s-sticking up for him," said Ron. "He'd kill us if he had half a chance."  
  
"Ron!" Hermione chastised. "He would not! You have no idea how much he's given up for the Order."  
  
"And you do?"  
  
Hermione shook her head. She heard a twig snap in the distance. Something about the forest was making her insides twist up in nervousness.  
  
"What was that?" asked Ron in a whisper, grabbing on to her sleeve.  
  
"It was nothing," said Hermione, more to try and quiet her growing fear than to comfort Ron.  
  
"Let's go back, Hermione, we can get his stupid potion ingredients tomorrow morning," Ron whimpered.  
  
"We can't. Oak leaves are only potent when picked in the dark," Hermione didn't realize that now she was now grabbing on to Ron's sleeves as well.  
  
More snappings and noises were coming their way.  
  
"If those oak leaves are so important to you, Hermione," Ron said, "then you stay and get them. I'm going back to the castle."  
  
"Wait, Ron!" Hermione whispered urgently to his retreating back. There was no way she could find her way back from this deep in the forest. But he appeared not to hear her, going as fast as he could back towards his warm dormitory bed.  
  
The snappings grew louder. And closer. Someone was definitely in the woods.  
  
"Hello?" called Hermione, weakly. "Who's there? Do you need help?" Maybe someone was lost. A shadowed figure with pale skin stepped from behind a tree. Hermione couldn't see its face, couldn't even tell if it was male or female.  
  
"I'm hungry," said the figure. "And I am lost. I need food."  
  
Hermione fished in her pockets and took out a Canary Cream that she had confiscated. "Here," she said. "I have a sweet." Maybe turning the thing into a canary would give her a chance to get back to the castle, if she could find it.  
  
"I don't need that kind of food," said the creature, rubbing its neck with its left hand. "I need you."  
  
"What?" Hermione breathed.  
  
The creature stepped into a beam of moonlight, which illuminated its deathly pale skin, blood-shot eyes, and long dark hair.  
  
"So young," the creature spoke as if to itself. It sniffed. "So . . . sweet." It rubbed its neck again and Hermione saw its fingernails filed to a point. "You shouldn't be out in the forest, small one," it said. "There are reasons for such rules."  
  
"What are you going to do to me?" Hermione asked in a steady voice that contradicted her trembling body.  
  
"Have you ever wondered if your nightmares could come true?" the creature asked, moving closer to her.  
  
Hermione tried to step back, but her body refused to respond to her mind's command. She felt a tear slide down her face, a wonderfully warm sensation.  
  
"They can," said the creature. "And yours just has." He put one hand around her throat, dragging a nail down the same track as her tear. "Don't worry," it said. "You won't die."  
  
Its hand came down to grip her arm. Its head slowly came closer to her and Hermione wondered if it was some kind of other breed of Dementor. But it didn't kiss her. Hermione felt a pressure on her neck underneath it's mouth, gentle at first, then more insistent. She felt he creature's cold breath on her neck and shivers raced through her back and shoulders.  
  
"Hold still!" it angrily hissed, relieving the pressure for a few moments. Then she felt the pressure again, with the wet stickiness of its saliva, running down and soaking her collar.  
  
Suddenly, she felt the pressure turn into a pop as the creature's teeth pierced her skin and vein at the same time. She saw the red pain on the back of her eyelids and cried out. Her life was being sucked out of her through her neck, replacing the warmth inside with a caustic cold. Hermione actually felt the last beat of her heart and the last breath that came out of her lungs before the cold overtook her and her body slumped to the ground.  
  
A/N: Tell me what you thought, please! Should I continue? This was based on a challenge I found in the Under Moderation folder on WIKTT, and as soon as the challenge is no longer under moderation, I will submit this as a response. But I couldn't wait to post it. So here it is! 


	2. Chapter 1: Going Under

Chapter 1 Going Under  
  
It was just after two a.m. when he found her, pale as the moonlight and cold as death on the forest floor. He had told her not to go this deep into the forest, the leaves he needed were on the outer edge of the forest; she didn't even have to go past the boundary to get them. The creatures must have found her. But how did they get here? They were almost never found in this part of the forest. Maybe one of them had gotten lost. This was going to be a difficult situation. Her body was still, no breath moving her small chest. But then, there wouldn't be.  
  
"Where did you find her, Severus?" asked Madam Pomfrey when Snape arrived at the Hospital Wing with Hermione.  
  
"She was in the forest," said Severus.  
  
Pomfrey paled. "Was she near the colony?"  
  
"No," he said. "But I believe she encountered one of them regardless."  
  
Pomfrey nodded. "Lay her down and go find Albus. He'll need to know."  
  
Hermione woke the next morning with a burning sensation in her eyes. She pulled the blanket over her head, but the burning still persisted. It was too hot, she was burning up, she was on fire.  
  
"She's waking up," a female voice said. "Severus, close the drapes."  
  
The burning left and a comfortable chill went through her body. She flung the blankets away.  
  
"I need some water," said Hermione in a raspy voice. "So thirsty."  
  
Pomfrey gave her the water, and Hermione drank it in one gulp, but her thirst persisted.  
  
"More," she said.  
  
The resident medi-witch shook her head. "Water is not what you need."  
  
"What do you mean?" asked Hermione groggily. "What happened?"  
  
"What is the last thing you remember?" Dumbledore asked, with no sign of a twinkle in his eye.  
  
"I was in the forest . . . " Hermione began, thinking about the previous night, "Ron left me . . . someone came . . . then . . . oh good god, no, I've had a nightmare, that was a nightmare."  
  
"It wasn't a nightmare, Hermione," said Dumbledore. "You were bitten by a vampire."  
  
She sank back into the pillows, trying to ignore the ache in her jaw. "So is that why I'm so cold? Is that why I don't need water?"  
  
"Yes," said Dumbledore.  
  
"So what do I do now? How do I tell Harry and Ron?"  
  
"How you tell Harry and Ron is up to you, my dear," Dumbledore replied. "But I believe that you need someone to teach about what is happening to you right now. That is why you will be having regular meetings with Professor Snape."  
  
Hermione laughed out loud. "Snape as a vampire, Ron would be proud."  
  
"I am pleased that Mr. Weasley has such a high opinion of me," said a silky voice from the corner.  
  
"Why Professor Snape," said Hermione sarcastically, "I had no idea that you were here."  
  
"That does not surprise me," Snape said in an equally sarcastic manner. "You have much to learn, Miss Granger."  
  
Hermione began squirming in her bed. The ache in her jaw was more persistent now, sharper. She was picking at the sheets, rubbing her feet together in irritation. "I'm . . . hungry," she gasped out.  
  
"She needs a donor," said Snape.  
  
"May I see Harry and Ron?"  
  
Dumbledore nodded. "I will go and find them."  
  
Hermione sat in the room, in the painfully white bed. She looked at her skin. It was almost as white as the sheets she was lying on.  
  
Then she smelled it. It was sweet, but salty at the same time, like the smell of metal, but warm. It smelled like heaven. Or hell. She could take her pick, as long as she got some of the blood she was smelling. Her rate of breathing increased. She was so hungry, so thirsty. She could smell food, just inches away from her. She ached to feel her powerful jaw massaging someone's flesh, their sticky-sweet life-fluid, flooding down her throat. She pulled her hair in frustration.  
  
"Relax," said the voice. "We will find you a donor soon."  
  
"I'm hungry," she said.  
  
"You will always be hungry," said Snape. "It is your nature now."  
  
"I don't want to be hungry anymore."  
  
"You will adjust."  
  
Hermione was about to shout at him when Harry and Ron walked through the door, followed by Dumbledore. Their scents came with them and Hermione almost lost her control.  
  
"How are you doing, Hermione?" asked Harry.  
  
"Look, Hermione, I'm sorry I left you out there, I shouldn't have done it, I don't know how you could ever forgive me. I'm sorry. It should be me in that bed, not you," Ron blurted when he saw Hermione in the hospital bed.  
  
"It's all right, Ron," said Hermione through clenched teeth. It was taking all her will to stay where she was, and not sink her teeth into the bulging veins on his neck. "It would have been worse if you'd been there. I should have left with you."  
  
Silence for a moment, torturing Hermione with a cacophony of smells. Everyone had a different scent, and all were equally enticing.  
  
"What happened to you out there, Hermione?" Harry asked.  
  
"I met a creature," said Hermione. "It was a vampire. It bit me. I passed out, woke up here. That's the basic version."  
  
The boys gaped at her, wide-eyed and open-mouthed.  
  
Harry was the first to speak. "So you're -- "  
  
"Yes," Hermione hissed as she crawled over the bed to the place where Harry was standing; she practically crawled up him until her face was level with his, her hands clutching his robes. "And the smell of you is driving me crazy." She eyes a pulsing vein in his neck that only she could see, leaning in towards it, lips parted.  
  
Suddenly, strong arms were pulling her off of the warm-blooded flesh and pinning her to the cold sheets. "NO!" she screamed. "HE'S MINE! I'M HUNGRY!"  
  
"Calm down," Snape said. "I know you're hungry, and you will feed, in time. But not now. Control yourself."  
  
Hermione struggled underneath him as he held her down on the mattress.  
  
"Control yourself," said Snape again before releasing his grip on her shoulders.  
  
As if coming out of a trance, Hermione's head snapped towards Harry and Ron, the naked fear evident in their eyes. "What did I do?" The memory came back to her like a cold gust of wind. "Harry, I'm sorry," she said. "I'm so sorry."  
  
"It's all right," said Harry in a small voice. "You didn't hurt me."  
  
Hermione stared at him through shadowed eyes. "You have no idea how close I came."  
  
"You will learn control in time," said Snape. "For the moment, however, you should be confined to the isolation wing of the hospital."  
  
Hermione nodded, feeling her throat clench as though she was going to cry, but no tears came. "I understand."  
  
"Potter, Weasley," Snape snapped at Harry and Ron; "I need to speak with you."  
  
"What do you want?" asked Ron. He saw it as partly Snape's fault that Hermione was now a vampire.  
  
"Shut it, Weasley. I trust you are both aware of the fact that Miss Granger now requires a certain amount of human blood on a regular basis to sustain herself. Now she can't very well go hunting through the Hogwarts halls, can she?"  
  
Harry and Ron stared at Snape blankly.  
  
Snape sighed. "She needs a blood donor. One of you would be the best choice, as you are both close to her and aware of her situation."  
  
Harry and Ron looked at each other. "I'll do it," said Harry.  
  
"Me, too," said Ron. He started to make his way back to Hermione.  
  
"Not now, Weasley," said Snape in a low growl. "She needs to feed, she's been too long without nourishment. Which of you wishes to donate immediately?"  
  
"I do," said Harry before Ron could say anything. "What do I do?"  
  
"Ah, Potter, always the hero. Roll up your sleeve."  
  
Harry obeyed, but glared at Snape.  
  
Snape produced a small knife from somewhere within his abundant robes and drew it along Harry's exposed forearm, making a cut dangerously close to the vein.  
  
"Hold your arm down!" Snape snapped. He held a cup to Harry's arms, collecting the blood drop by ruby drop. The drops soon turned into trickles and the trickles soon filled the cup. Snape performed a healing charm on the cut, closing it so that not a mark remained.  
  
"Here, Miss Granger," Snape offered the cup to her.  
  
Hermione snatched the drink from his hands and greedily gulped the sweet crimson liquid. "More," she said when she had finished the contents.  
  
"No more," said Snape.  
  
Hermione glared at him. Then she looked down at her sheets. "I'm sorry," she said. "Thank you, Harry."  
  
Ron looked surprised. "How did you -- "  
  
"The smell," said Hermione.  
  
"It's high time you boys left," said Madam Pomfrey. "Hermione needs her rest."  
  
Hermione and Snape snorted in unison.  
  
"Go on, boys," said Dumbledore. "I will follow you shortly."  
  
The boys left after saying good bye to Hermione and wishing her a pleasant day, promising to see her later.  
  
"I have duties to attend to," said the Headmaster. "You will be fine with Severus, my dear," said Dumbledore to Hermione. "He will make your adjustment easier."  
  
"I doubt that," said Hermione.  
  
"I suspect you'll be surprised," said Dumbledore before he left.  
  
"Well," said Madam Pomfrey, "it's time to move you."  
  
"Move me to where?" Hermione asked, a trace of fear in her voice.  
  
A cloud shadowed Pomfrey's features. "To the isolation ward," she said. "Until you can better control yourself, it would be safer to keep you away from the general student population."  
  
Hermione looked down at her sheets again, her throat getting tight.  
  
"It's just for a few days," said Madam Pomfrey, hesitantly putting a hand on her shoulder.  
  
Hermione's throat tightened even more and the muscles in her chin began to spasm. No one used to be afraid to touch her before. But now they were, she could smell it in their blood. They were scared of her.  
  
"Don't worry, Madam Pomfrey," she said sniffing automatically, though there was really no need. "I just fed, remember?"  
  
The hand withdrew quickly from Hermione's shoulder.  
  
"Come, Miss Granger," said Snape. "I have much to teach you."  
  
A/N: Okay, just so everyone is clear, Hermione is probably going to be VERY OOC in this story. It's because becoming a vampire has changed her and will continue to change her. Tell me what you thought of this chapter! Did you like it? 


	3. Chapter 2: Cold

Chapter 2 Cold  
  
The creature was hot, so hot. It was burning out here, under the sun. It had been too long since she'd been out in the sun. The night was so much nicer; there were shadows, and coolness, and that was when she hunted. The night was beautiful, subtle, flowing; the day was stark, hard, ugly, exposing all the things you wanted hidden. But these creatures, these human, worshipped the day. She was glad she was no longer one of them. But she had to speak with the one called Albus Dumbledore today. She approached the heavy oak doors at the front of the building. An old woman, with a pinched-looking mouth and a large pointed hat approached her.  
  
"Can I help you?" the old woman asked tightly.  
  
The creature watched the veins in the woman's neck throb with every heartbeat, but did not stir. It was too hot for hunting. "My name is Joanna," said the creature in a dark, rasping voice. "I have come to speak with the one called Dumbledore."  
  
"What business do you have with the Headmaster?" the woman asked. "He's a very busy man, you know."  
  
Joanna let out a low growl of frustration. It was too hot for questions, too hot for explanations. But it was also too hot for arguing. "I come from a colony deep within the forest. I was sent to retrieve one of our number who was stolen from us last night."  
  
"Oh," said the old woman, apprehension dawning in her eyes as she took a step back. Joanna could smell her fear and inwardly chuckled. Fear was so commonplace to her now, it was amusing. Especially in the day, when no one was hunting. "I will take you to the Headmaster," said the old woman.  
  
Joanna inclined her pale head in gratitude, her long, matted dark hair falling further into her eyes.  
  
"You have a visitor, Albus," said the McGonagall as she opened the door the Dumbeldore's office. "She was very insistent. Claims one of her number was lost."  
  
"Not lost," said Joanna in a low voice. "Stolen."  
  
"What are you doing here?" snapped Dumbledore.  
  
"I have every right to be here, when one of our number is missing," said Joanna.  
  
"It was our agreement that you wouldn't step foot on Hogwarts grounds," Dumbledore said. McGonagall quietly slipped out of the office, closing the door behind her.  
  
"We have a Child of Darkness within your walls, or we would not have come near this place," Joanna said, ducking her head, drawing her curtain of hair further around her face.  
  
"One of your number attacked a student last night in the Forest. Is that why you're here?"  
  
"Yes," said Joanna. "I apologize for Morgen. He is too young, he has not learned our ways, or our boundaries yet. But that does not change fact that you are holding one of us."  
  
"She isn't one of you, yet," said Dumbledore.  
  
Joanna smiled, showing her sharp, yellowed teeth. "Yes, she is. I feel her thirst, smell her hunger, taste her longing. And she can feel mine as well. The same dark curse that resides within my people has made its home in her as well."  
  
Hermione sat up in her bed, quickly, eyes wide open. "I need her," she said.  
  
"Need who?" asked Snape, he was sitting beside her bed, in case she became hungry again.  
  
"She's here," said Hermione.  
  
"Who's here?" demanded Snape.  
  
"I don't know," said Hermione. "But I feel her. She thirsts. She's . . . hot. She's burning. Like I was burning."  
  
"She is too young for you to take her," Dumbledore insisted.  
  
Joanna laughed, a deep, dark, menacing laugh that echoed off the stone walls. "We have taken younger than her into our midst. I was merely a child when I arrived at the colony," Joanne sobered and stared at Dumbledore. "She needs to be with her own kind, old man. She cannot survive on her own."  
  
"No, she can't," Dumbledore said. "But she can survive with us. I will not let you take her back."  
  
"Then let me teach her," said Joanna. "At least let her know how to feed, how to hunt, how to use her curse."  
  
"If curses were meant to be used, they wouldn't be curses, would they? She has no reason to hunt, she had a donor."  
  
Joanna laughed again. "A donor!? A donor does not satisfy the Thirst. This thirst, this hunger, is for more than just blood. It is for flesh. For life. For warmth. If you do not allow her to come to me, she will hunt of her own will, unable to stop until her thirst has been satisfied, until her hunt fulfilled. You are damning yourself and this school if you keep her here."  
  
"I am willing to take that chance. You need to leave now, before all bonds between our peoples are broken."  
  
"You cannot stop what is inside her, Dumbledore," Joanna said.  
  
"You're wrong. You and your kind choose to live in darkness, in cold, in isolation. There are others who choose the light."  
  
"They are traitors to their own species."  
  
"No, Joanna," said Dumbledore. "You are the traitor to what you know is right."  
  
Joanna let out and angry growl and a hiss and left the castle, fleeing back to the forest, to the cold.  
  
A/N: Oooh, what do you think? Is it spooky, or what? Review please! 


	4. Chapter 3: Haunted

Chapter 3 Haunted  
  
Hermione writhed in her sleep, her dreams filled with shadowy figures that became solid when she approached them; they offered her their blood, their bodies, all she could ever thirst for was at her fingertips. The rising moon woke her with a start.  
  
"I'm hungry," she moaned. "So hungry."  
  
"It is not time to feed," said the satin voice in the corner shadows.  
  
"Yes it is!" Hermione shouted. "I'm hungry!"  
  
"Then eat," Snape said as he pushed a plat of boiled carrots and potatoes towards her. She flung the plate against the wall and it shattered against the stone wall with a loud crash.  
  
Hermione looked at the plate, aghast. "I'm sorry, Professor," she said. "But . . . I don't know what came over me."  
  
"I know."  
  
"They didn't look very appetizing."  
  
Snape snorted. "Nothing will look appetizing to you. But you must learn to eat it."  
  
"Why?" Hermione snapped.  
  
"You must be able to survive in society as a vampire, much the same way Lupin has learned to survive society as a werewolf." The end of his sentence was punctuated by a large yawn.  
  
Hermione rocked back and forth in her bed, sitting up now in the lotus position. "I don't want to be in society," she said. "I want to hunt. I thirst."  
  
"You must learn to control your thirst."  
  
"I can't," she said. She lay back on the bed and began writhing again and moaning this time. "So hungry."  
  
She crawled out of bed and across the floor to the Professor. "Please," she said. "I'm so thirsty, so hungry. I don't have to kill you."  
  
"No," he said.  
  
"Please!" she begged him.  
  
"No," he replied, more forcefully.  
  
She slapped him across his face. "You don't know what it's like! To live with an eternal hunger! I'm hungry all the time, even after I drank Harry's blood, I was hungry. You don't understand!"  
  
"I understand more than you know," he said.  
  
"You're not one of us," she said. "I would have sensed it."  
  
"Do not say 'us;' you are not one of them. And no, I'm not a vampire."  
  
"I need to go to the place . . . the place with my kind," Hermione muttered breathlessly. "I need to hunt."  
  
"No," said Severus. "You don't need to go there, you don't need to hunt."  
  
Hermione glared at him over her shoulder before crawling back into her bed.  
  
"I'm still hungry," she said.  
  
She lay awake the rest of the night, ignoring the ache in her jaw, her teeth. "When can I get out of here?" she spoke about three.  
  
"When you have proven that you can control yourself," Snape replied.  
  
"I can do it," she said. "Just let me out."  
  
"I don't believe you," said Snape.  
  
"You never believe me," Hermione retorted. "How will I know when I can control myslef?"  
  
"When you can see blood and not lunge for it."  
  
"That day will never come," said Hermione. She sighed. "Do you have a nail file?"  
  
Snape produced one from an inner pocket of his robes. Hermione accepted it and began filing her nails, the harsh scratching sound was the only one in the room.  
  
"Hermione?" Harry asked cautiously, peeking around her door. Hermione sat up in her bed quickly. Was she going to feed again?  
  
"You can come in, Harry, I won't hurt you," she said. "Besides, Professor Snape is in here to protect you."  
  
Hermione was the only one who heard Harry mumble something about not needing protection from a greasy git, and she smiled.  
  
"I would give you a donation," said Harry, "but Professor Dumbledore told me that I can only give every five weeks."  
  
Hermione tried to hide the disappointment in her face. "It's all right," she said. "I'm not that hungry."  
  
Snape snorted from the corner. Hermione ignored him.  
  
"Where's Ron?" she asked.  
  
"Oh, he, er, he had Quidditch practice," Harry stammered.  
  
"And you didn't?" Hermione asked.  
  
"He needs the extra Keeper training," said Harry.  
  
Hermione looked her friend in the eyes. "Is he afraid of me?"  
  
"No," said Harry truthfully. "He feels guilty."  
  
"Oh for pity's sake, if he had stayed there, one of us would be dead right now, and other would be . . . in that . . . place . . . that place."  
  
"What place?" Harry asked.  
  
Hermione glanced at him through hooded eyes. "The place of my people."  
  
"They are not your people," broke in Snape. "We are your people, not them."  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes and nodded. "Tell him that I'll talk to him, soon, I'm learning to control myself, and the professors say that I could be out in a few days."  
  
"That's good," said Harry, glancing hopefully at Snape.  
  
"She has made progress," Snape admitted. "The three days in here have taught her to control her . . . appetite."  
  
"What nice euphemisms you have, Professor," Hermione sarcastically voiced.  
  
Snape raised an eyebrow. "I could hardly be called the Big Bad Wolf in this situation, Miss Granger."  
  
Hermione threw her head back and laughed.  
  
"You're different," said Harry to Hermione.  
  
"I am," she said. "You're just going to have to get used to it." Hermione playfully bit a finger.  
  
Snape sighed from his corner. "I see we're going to have to take action soon."  
  
"What action?" Harry snapped. "What are you going to do to her?"  
  
"None of your business, Potter," said Snape. There was a minute of awkward silence.  
  
"You should go," said Hermione, sensing his discomfort.  
  
"Right then," Harry said, relieved to find an excuse to leave. "I'll see you later, Hermione?"  
  
"Sure thing, Harry," said Hermione, almost like her normal self again.  
  
"So how'd I do?" she asked Snape once Harry had shut the door.  
  
"Adequately," he said. "You should be able to leave tomorrow."  
  
"Hoorah," she said unethusiastically.  
  
The ache in her mouth did not lessen with time, it grew worse. She longed to sink her teeth into pulsing flesh, to draw the very warmth out of someone. But she wouldn't, she couldn't. She had to be able to get out of that damn room and out of his damn presence.  
  
"Well, Professor, I suppose this is good bye," she said. "I'll see you in Potions."  
  
"No, Miss Granger," Snape. "You will see me every other night from the end of dinner at approximately six-thirty until approximately seven-thirty or one hour, whichever comes first, to discuss how you are adjusting to your new lifestyle."  
  
"Oh fuck," she said, "and I was looking forward to not seeing you like this anymore. Well, I suppose it's all for the best."  
  
"I suppose so," said Snape. He leaned down to whisper in her ear, and she felt his warm breath against her cold body. "Don't think I don't know what you're doing."  
  
She looked up at him, startled. Then she smirked. "What ever do you mean, Professor?" Then she walked away.  
  
Hermione put her sarcasm back in its mental box. It served its purpose, but she didn't like it that much. But if she didn't have it, she was afraid what would come out of her mouth. She was so hungry, she could feel it all over her body, feel the Thirst burning through her. It was so hard to just keep moving past all those warm bodies in the hall, when they just begged to be touched, cut, sucked dry. So hard. She was so thirsty, so hungry. She needed to feed on warm flesh, not from a cold cup. The dead crave the living, that is the way.  
  
She felt the Place calling out to her, begging her to come to them, to take her place as one of their people. She was one of them already, she just had to get there. Someday she would. Someday she would learn to hunt.  
  
There was another ache inside, and ache that she knew only another could fulfill. One who was as cold as she was and didn't notice when her touch was icy, and had no reason to draw back from her. She wanted to feel his coldness pulsing inside of her, his need mingling with hers, their dry flesh scraping against each other. The longing was tangible and almost more than she could stand. But they told her she couldn't have what she wanted, what she needed. She needed her own kind, she needed to be at the Place. But they said no, he said no. Didn't they know that a cold cup couldn't satisfy her? Didn't they know that a warm man was worthless to her? She had the Thirst. There was no such thing as controlling it. There was only denial, or relief. Only pain or ignorance.  
  
"Sorry, Hermione," said a small voice. The voice belonged to a body that had bumped into hers. She could feel the heart beating, feel the warmth seeping through the woolen clothes.  
  
"That's all right, Neville," said Hermione with a forced smile on her lips. He was standing so close, she could just stretch her neck but a few inches and find relief, find satisfaction, find an end to her hunger.  
  
"It's good to see that you're feeling better," Neville said. The hallway had become oddly deserted, probably because it was about dinner time.  
  
"Thank you, it's good to see you again, too," Hermione said, eyeing the veins and tendons. It would feel so good to snap the delicate strands with her teeth, to see his head lolling to one side as she greedily drank from a wound of her own creation.  
  
"You look awful pale, Hermione, are you sure you're all right?" Neville's hand reached up to her forehead, testing her temperature. Hermione heard every heartbeat that passed through the big veins in his wrist, she could see the blood flowing through the joint.  
  
"You're so cold," Neville said. "Maybe you should go back to the hospital wing."  
  
"No," Hermione whispered, her breathing labored. "I don't need to go back. I need -- "  
  
"Hermione!" called Harry from the other end of the hall. "You're missing dinner."  
  
"I'm coming, Harry," she replied, casting one more longing glance at Neville before following her friend to dinner.  
  
A/N: Okay, I know not much happened in this chapter, but what did you think anyway? Review please! 


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